Blue Hole

Pensive tempered thought in light morning fog that picks a fight as early birds forage for contentment My graveyard stroll on pathways with sooty traces of wet small puddles that smear the ground like a painter's blotched canvas I am drawn to dark depths to peer into limits into a grim hole swampy centre where blue feathers float on water a Jay has squeezed its way to risk startled, it flees in squabbles above the damp hard clay in mounds earth peaks that blot intrusion a script waiting till a quiet peace beckons someone mourners at the edge heads bowed to slacken the ropes of grief Blue hole the end of pathways tender pause breaching boundaries of what we cannot snare. Poem composed: May 29, 2021